


the tune of northern winds

by Mia_Zeklos



Series: Jonerys Appreciation Week 2018 [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jonerys Week 2018, Nature, Post Season/Series 7, Prophetic Dreams, Secrets, Symbolism, Winterfell, not really deep into the h/c but there is some comforting involved, only sort of but it's close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: It's the same dream every time and, bit by bit, Daenerys starts to suspect that it might just come true.





	the tune of northern winds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day two of the Jonerys Appreciation Week on tumblr, with the prompts _Favorite Quote // A Dream of Spring // House Targaryen_. Title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORk0Bw3t6R8), which, again, also serves as a soundtrack.
> 
> First fic from Dany's POV! It relies mostly on internal dialogue, but writing it was still inordinately fun. Regarding the prompts: I did sneak my favourite show!Jonerys quote in here, took _a dream of spring_ more literally than I should have and hinted at the reveal - which Jon is already made aware of at this point.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!

The dream started as it always did and the realisation of it was all the encouragement that Dany needed to let it run its course.

It always began near the lake. She was staring at her own reflection, but could somehow take the rest of it all as well; the world around her blossoming before her eyes in more colours than she’d ever seen on any flower. She stepped away from the water, cherishing the warmth of the earth under her bare feet. The world was waking up a fraction more with every step she took, the godswood bursting with life as she looked on in awe and—

Everything in her body ached.

Daenerys straightened herself up in her seat with a wince at the terrible rigidity of her limbs. The book that lay open on the table held yet another batch of information about the Long Night and she had been paying attention, she really had, but the hour had grown late eventually. She hadn’t been particularly well-rested to begin with; it made sense that it would start taking its toll in the end.

Three days had passed since they’d arrived to Winterfell. Three days of in-fighting and the Northern Lords’s distrust; of hesitant side glances and people who avoided her in the corridors of the castle and drank in her honour at dinner. They had every right and reason to be careful with her, she supposed, but that didn’t make it any less tiring. It wasn’t all of them, of course, and she couldn’t—

“Your Grace?” Dany looked up, blinking the last remnants of sleep away from her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. It broke the spell of the half-darkness around her in an instant and she found herself smiling despite everything. “I was hoping to have a word. Is there anyone—”

“No.” The single word echoed between the stone walls of Winterfell’s library and she cleared her throat. “It’s just me.”

Jon shut the door behind his back as quietly as possible and slid on the chair next to her to peer over her shoulder at what she’d been reading.

“It’s nearly nightfall.” There was a subtle shift in his tone now, just enough for her to catch. The stiffness in his posture had melted away too as soon as he had realised that they were alone. “You should rest.”

“I already did.” She rubbed at her eyes again, irritated at her own exhaustion. The preparations for the winter and the confrontation with the Night King specifically involved quite a lot of reading, but the need for sleep had won over. “Jon?”

“Yes?”

“I keep having this— dream.” The word didn’t fit as well as she’d hoped, but it would have to do. “About the godswood. Have you ever seen it in spring?”

The candles were already burning low, but she could still see the surprise in Jon’s dark eyes.

“I haven’t,” he said at last. It sounded just a little like a question with a hint of apology to it. “I was born in spring, but not _here_. My father only brought me home later. All I remember is summer. Is that what you dream of?”

“It might be.” Dany fiddled with a page’s corner. It wasn’t a particularly good distraction. “I was born in spring too, but all I know is that there were storms. I’ve heard it’s a sign when you dream of things you have never seen.” She felt exposed, suddenly, like she’d revealed far too much of something she couldn’t make sense of even on her own. The feeling dissipated as soon as she felt Jon’s hand wrap around hers in silent acknowledgment. “Sometimes that means that there is more to it than it appears, and yet—it doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it bothers you.” She made to stand, but froze when she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist. “Dany—” He began and then faltered, clearly unsure whether he’d just made things worse.

“It’s all right.” She didn’t pull away from his grip even when it softened, but found her way back to the table instead, this time sitting just a little closer. It was cold even with the heat of the fireplace and the warmth that seemed to emanate from him was much more effective. It was quite comforting, really, to feel him by her side as she watched the dusk fall over the snow-covered trees outside the castle walls. “It’s just a word. I would be grateful if you could turn it into something better.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Jon’s arms wrapped around her as he spoke and she leant back into his embrace, glad for the unexpected privacy they’d been given. “Not with something like a name.”

“It isn’t my name that scares me; it’s the memory.” Dany felt the last tendrils of her tension retract as soon as she’d said the words. It was all out now; she had nothing left to hide. And why would she? She was talking to a man whose last name had reminded him of his heritage his entire life. _Snow_. It should have been fitting, considering where they were, but there was still something, something she couldn’t define— “And it’s all over now. The only things left to see are ahead.”

“Like spring?”

She should have known he wouldn’t have let her distract him too long. “Like winter, _then_ spring. Perhaps I am meant to welcome both here.”

“Perhaps.” Jon’s hold on her hand turned into a caress as he ran his fingers over her wrist, as if trying to feel her heartbeat. “Would that be important enough for the gods to let you know?”

“How am I expected to guess what the gods deem important?” She was honest enough with herself at least to be able to admit that responding with a question was nothing but another distraction. The future was too fickle for her to genuinely consider, even if she could already tell that it would involve a prolonged stay at Winterfell. “I always think it was them who helped me when I had my dragons.” And the same gods, if they had a say in it, had to have decided to take Viserion away from her. “They’ve abandoned my family since then, I’m afraid.” Abandoned _her_ , if she wanted to be straightforward, although, “I try not to rely on their favour too much.”

“I recall.” He hadn’t moved, but the tension was back. “But you’re not abandoned. You have my word.”

 _You_. She hadn’t needed to say it. Of course not.

“How would you know?”

“I know.”

“Not an answer.”

Dany more felt than heard the quiet rumble of his laughter. “I didn’t claim it was one.”

“You said you wanted to have a word.” There was no response this time. It felt like an agreement. “Was it about this?”

“Abandonment? I— it’s the _opposite_ of that.” Another moment of silence. “It does have to do with family.”

“If it’s one of your sisters—”

“No, but it’s not a conversation we need to have today.” Jon disentangled himself from her carefully and she let him pull her to her feet, smiling again at the sudden purposefulness of his expression. “Would you like to see the gardens?”

“I already did.” She followed him still. It wouldn’t hurt to be distracted; not for just a while. The gardens were _beautiful_ despite the season, with their frozen roots and the ghosts of bushes and beauty that once had been. It was fascinating to look at; to know that the earth would remember enough to bring it all back to life in the years before winter ended. “They’re nothing but snow.”

“ _Now_ , yes,” Jon allowed. The first gust of wind once they approached the entrance sent chills through her even under the heavy coat she was wearing. It wasn’t enough to change her mind. “But you can tell me what it’ll be like when we see it in spring.”


End file.
